The Impunzi factor

Over generations a person’s genes become entwined with the geography and climate of the land, I know that because when I arrive in Rwanda, my body relaxes and gains weight. It is like my body says “ahhhh, you’re home now, we can relax now.” My father wasn’t tall, but he would look at his sons all towering over him, all six-footers and say “I am actually taller than you all, it is just because of Impunzi factor.” We had a better life, drank milk every day, ate every few hours, a luxury our parents never had. Impunzi factor – it makes you do weird things, desperate times and desperate measures, a refugee has few choices and has to do what is necessary. People from Nshungerezi dug fields for Banyankole in Uganda, tended cattle for Baganda, and did what was necessary to survive. In UK I was a waiter as a student to pay bills, even when racist customers abused me; I kept my calm – Impunzi factor. I knew I could never belong, you can get the passport but never belong, your skin marks you out, and it is covered with the word REFUGEE. I always laugh when my Ugandan friends come to Rwanda; they come with an image of hordes of women waiting to fulfill their fantasies. There once was a time when the best a Munyarwanda girl in Uganda could hope for was to marry a rich Ugandan, and there is even a false image that Rwandese women are loose. So imagine the shock when flashy boys from Kampala roll into town “hey I’m from Kampala!” then they wonder why girls are not impressed. I say “these girls are used to seeing Diaspora guys from Canada, UK, Belgium, USA, so Kampala is not that impressive. “But I’m from Kampala!” Then comes the realization “these girls look just like the Nyaru’s in Kampala, but they are different.” He didn’t notice but it was “Impunzi factor” where somebody will act differently at home, they no longer have to fight to fit in, and they are in a country that is geared to them. Rwandan women are the majority in parliament, and they run many parts of society. A British friend of mine saw women at a building site and said “now that is real feminism, forget these other women who make noise, look – this woman is bricklaying a tight Flemish bond with alternating grouting.” We Rwandans have very large Diaspora communities, they all long for a return to this sacred soil, they suffer everyday from Impunzi factor, and sometimes it is so engrained in the make-up that they accept it. They accept second class citizenship as a fact of life, integrate, assimilate, replicate and the cycle goes on. Those still here dream of flying away and living in far off lands. I just try to explain this thing called Impunzi factor and can never put it in words. It is like being in a party where everyone is having fun but you, and it doesn’t matter if you’re there or not. ramaisibo@hotmail.com